Fragile Soul
by BlueAsphodel
Summary: This was not Emma McClain's first life. Nor was it her second. Honestly, given all that she'd been through, finding out she was in a story she had read long ago(a lifetime ago really) didn't even faze her... much. SI/OC (sort of).
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**  
 **Unfortunate Soul**

Emma McClain is born in complete silence.

Her mother breaths deep and low exhausted from a long and difficult labor. Her father holding his breath altogether, overawed at the sight of the new life before him. The baby herself is in silent shock, distraught by the ordeal she has just been put through.

This is not Emma McClain's first life.

Nor is it her second.

A dawning sense of horror takes over the newborn as she finally begins to comprehend her fate.

She is still alive. And when she dies she will most likely be waking up again in another body, in another time.

She will never find rest. There will never be an end.

She is trapped.

A shrill cry finally pierces the silence and the earth shakes with her grief.

* * *

Emma is a disturbingly quiet baby. Her parents don't mind. Andrew and Camellia McClain are constantly surprised by the overwhelming love they feel for their little miracle. They would be lying if they said they felt no worry over her silence, but when she looks into their eyes with her own honey colored orbs they can glimpse her intelligence. So they take her silence in stride, knowing there was nothing wrong with their princess. If anything she was special.

Every caress she receives, she returns ten-fold. Burying her face in the crook of her fathers neck, resting her cheeks on her mother's breasts. Emma McClain knew how scarce love can be, and even struggling with her deep sorrow and self-pity, she never fails to return the affection she is so freely given.

And so it happened, that as the months passed Emma McClain buried deep her memories of the miserable lives that came before this one and made her parents the center of her world.

At four months old, Emma realized there was something new about this life. Something out of the bright shiny fairy tales of her first life.

 _Magic._

Her parents both wield wands, waving the deceptively innocent looking sticks around to bend all the laws of physics she had thought to be immutable. They conjure toys out of thin air for her to play with. They clean up her messes with a neat incantation and a quick flick. They light up the room with a softly spoken word...and Emma allows herself to hope. Maybe there would be an answer in this life... A cure for her inexplicable curse.

But such thoughts were for later. Now Emma sat in her crib, chewing upon her dark red locks as she tried to listen to her parents hushed whispers.

"...not safe... Death Eat-...have to...", the hushed sound of her fathers voice pleaded with her mother.

"...but what about...we can't just...", her mother whispered in return.

This seemed to go on for a while until finally her father's voice is raised in a decisive statement.

"Enough! This is what's best for Emma!"

Her mother didn't reply.

The next week they moved into a new home in what appeared to be the bustling city of London(something familiar, she recognized this place from her first life...though the times seemed to be different). Their names were changed to Andrew,Candice and Emily McDougall. The wands were put out of Emma's sight, never to be seen again.

It didn't take her long to realize her parents were hiding.

But what from?

* * *

Months passed and Emma began to doubt her sanity. Had her mind simply conjured the idea of magic to cope? There were no signs of it in her life anymore.

Her father went to work in the mornings, and returned in the evening tired but still eager to play with his only child. Her mother took her to a local park in the late afternoons to interact with the neighbors and to let her meet their children. Children that Emma got along with surprisingly well given her peculiar history.

The McDougalls lived a perfectly ordinary life.

 _Well... ordinary is a matter of perspective I suppose_. Emma mused.

There were still some quirks and kinks there. Emma could only pretend to be an ordinary child of her age. And while her young body lent her certain mannerisms that helped her appear like a normal child, the illusion was shattered as soon as she looked into their eyes. Or opened her mouth to speak. She was quick to ascertain their discomfort though, and soon her eyes were demurely downcast, and she spoke only when spoken to. In public she was a sweet if somewhat shy little girl.

Her parents too didn't seem to belong entirely to their surroundings. They had friends of course. People they could talk to about work and share recipes with... but there was always a certain distance between them and the rest of the world. Not obvious to anyone that merely gave them a passing glance. But the closer they looked the stranger the McDougall's seemed.

And then there was her name. Was she Emma or was she Emily? Did it matter though? Was there a distinction between the two? Sometimes she thought there was. Emma belonged in a story book. Emily was just another kid on the block.

* * *

Emily turned two, and then she turned three. And life went on quite peacefully. Though there were times she suspected her parents were stressed by some news or the other that they never seemed to want to discuss around her.

But that was alright. Even without being fully aware of what the matter was, Emily (Emma ...her name was Emma) did her best to keep her parents in high spirits.

There was still plenty of love and laughter in their home.

Until February came and with it the end of everything Emily held dear.

Her parents hastily hid her in their bedroom cupboard as their doors were blasted open by a raging hellfire.

Emily/Emma stayed perfectly silent as she watched a procession of black robed(Robes like her father used to wear before they moved and the magic was gone) men enter her home. Their faces covered in skull white masks. From within their ranks emerged a man (monster) with blood red eyes and a sibilant voice.

Emma could not not make out what words were said... but she understood the following screams perfectly.

She stood in that little cupboard for hours ... eyes shut tightly and hands pressed to ears so hard they hurt.

And hours after the men had left, their cruel laughter still ringing in her bones...the police came to investigate and found her still stood there. Eyes still shut upon tear-streaked face, unwilling to open to this new reality.

* * *

Years later Emma would recall the first thought she had about magic in this world. How it was like something out of a story from her first life. And would laugh at the bitter irony of it all.

* * *

Emily spends her fourth birthday in Madam Olivia's Orphanage.

She doesn't stay there long.

It's obvious to her care takers that Emily McDougall is an exceptional child. A prodigy even. Within the year she has given tests to qualify for a scholarship to a school of gifted children and is shipped off to her new residence.

Emily can't say she would miss the orphanage. The children there were very different from those of the neighborhood she had lived in. She tried to stay out of their way to the best of her abilities. But unlike the children she had been used to up to this point they were not content to let her be. These children had little enough of their own, having to give up the precious little attentions of the orphanage caretakers to the 'gifted' new girl bothered them enough that they made it their mission to heckle her every chance they got. 'Freak', 'Weirdo' and 'Creep' were only the kindest of their words.

Had Emily truly been four years old, they might even have managed to bother her for real. As it was, even without her previous life experiences Emily had suffered enough in this life to let their words roll over her without consequence (or so she liked to tell herself).

It was hard to go from her mothers hugs and her fathers kisses to the the care taker's distant praises and the children's cold glares. But she moved on (she always did).

* * *

The Kingston School for Gifted Children is an intense experience for those unprepared for it. It allows for year round residency, and makes no room for exhaustion or stress. If you can't keep up, then you don't belong here.

Emily never has trouble keeping up.

She tends to focus on subjects new to her, things she hasn't been as well acquainted with in either of her previous lives. History, Geography and Political science... They are new to her here. The year is 1982, and history is both similar to and different from what she expected it be. Even with new material to study she finds some spare time on her hands. She decides to learn the piano, it's something she had wanted to do in her first life, but never got around to.

She is terrible.

Her teachers are horrified at the abomination she dares to call music, and consider that she might be tone deaf.

She doesn't care and keeps playing anyway.

It's the most fun she's had in years.

Eventually she manages to play a tune without making her teachers and audience wince. It's the happiest she has felt since her parents... she stops that thought just there. She still can't think of them without breaking into tears.

Her teachers often offer to move her up several classes in her best subjects, but she always refuses. She has seen the other children burn themselves out in their race to improve as fast as possible, she has no interest in adding on that sort of stress to her life.

Besides moving up would mean graduating early... and what would she do with herself then? Where would she go? It's not that she had a lack of options, but rather a lack of purpose. Since she had lost her parents she had kept moving forward out of a sense of inertia. She wasn't quite sure what she was living for.

In the summer of her tenth year she receives the answer to that question via a letter.

A letter addressed to one Miss Emma McClain.

She softly traces the half forgotten name and old memories slot into place.

A book...a story she read long ago(a lifetime ago), about a boy who lived, about a magical school, about wands and potions, spells and creatures.

About men in masks and their red eyed leader. A monster who desecrated his soul to cheat death.

Hogwarts had sent her their acceptance letter ... and her life was turned on it's head yet again.

* * *

Realizing that she was in what she once saw as a fictional universe wasn't as shocking to Emma as one might expect. Her second life had been in very different world after all. She had accepted the existence of multiple universes a lifetime ago. The fact that this one was fictional in another world only gave her a moments pause(and maybe she moved on real quickly from the thought to avoid an existential crisis).

She replies to her Hogwarts letter immediately, requesting a professor's aid in acquiring her supplies.

Then she sits down and tries to remember what she can about this story...it's not much.

She only vaguely remembers the name of some of the characters and the basic premises of each book.

She takes a moment to consider Voldemort, and a fire ignites in her heart. That was the man that had killed her parents. She stews in her grief and rage for a few minutes and then lets her anger go(or at least she tries). There was nothing she could do about it now. He would get his comeuppance soon enough.

More importantly she couldn't change anything in the story. As it was, this tale would come to a more or less happy end. Avoiding any death at all was completely impossible. It was a war after all. Her interference could change the outcome altogether- and that to her was unacceptable. Voldemort would die in the end. She would make sure of it.

Regardless of who else had to die along the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**  
 **Bright Soul**

"Ravenclaw", the Sorting Hat shouts...It's not entirely unexpected, and after a moment's reflection she realizes she is quite pleased by the Hat's choice for her (It will keep her out of the way of the inevitable shit storms that plague Slytherin and Gryffindor).

Making friends is easier here. Its not like Kingston, though there is a similar note of competitive energy in Ravenclaw. Still, people here are surprising laid back for a house that's supposed to focus on grades and lessons to an obsessive degree (Or maybe its her definition of obsessive that is slightly skewed).

Joyce Stark comes first. A cheerful blond drawing her into conversations almost effortlessly as the relax at the day's end in their dorms. Joyce is a breath of fresh air to Emma. She had forgotten how friendships work, but Joyce doesn't allow her a moment to panic. Her incessant chatter fills up the silence that had plagued Emma's life.

Smiles come easier now.

With Joyce comes her childhood friend Simon Harris, also a Ravenclaw in their year. A mischievous troublemaker who probably would have fit in just as well in Gryffindor. If Joyce fills her silences, Simon lights up her heart with his easy camaraderie and humor(though she can't deny there are times she wishes to tear her hair out at all the trouble he keeps getting himself into).

Laughter comes easier now.

Simon's closest friend and dorm mate Roger Davis soon joins their little group. A comforting mix of Simon's humor and her own grounded practicality. And though his name initially rings in the back of her mind as familiar... she eventually dismisses the thought. He must not have had much of a role in the story if she couldn't recall him. It wouldn't hurt anything to befriend him she thought. She hoped. She is later glad she ignored her apprehension.

She feels like she belongs now.

* * *

Classes fly by rather fast for the first few months. She enjoys these lessons like she never could at her previous school. Companionship really does make things easier.

She isn't flying through her lessons like she did with her muggle school (Though, her Professors eventually stop calling her out on her inattention as they realize she is at par with the best students of her year).

Here she spends hours and hours in the library (sometimes in the company of her new friends) reading texts completely unrelated to her course work, but fascinating all the same. Books on wards, healing, enchantments, wandlore and every other esoteric piece of magic she can find, she studies.

She laments that even with seven years to study it, she will not be able to learn everything this library has to offer.

She still keeps up with her course work of course, but its at the periphery. Getting As and Es and even the occasional O. The only exception to this, is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Much to her classmates bafflement she focuses on this subject with an intensity no one imagined she could possess.

Their Professor is an ex-Auror, and surprisingly competent. But she knows he is only here for the year, and she wants to make the best of what little time she has with a teacher who actually knows his stuff.

She eats her meals in the warm company of friends in the Great Hall, all the while ignoring the red haired boys sitting across from her on the Gryffindor table. Neither (fifth year) Charlie nor (second year)Percy Weasley call any attention to themselves. And if she ever spies on them from the corner of her eyes, well then some curiosity can be excused. Even if it means Joyce is convinced she has a thing for red-heads.

(Years later, on her wedding day, Joyce will laugh in her face and say I told you so).

* * *

Its a few weeks before Christmas that she is called to the Headmaster's office.

She is confused and apprehensive...She has no idea what this is about.

When she walks into the imposing room, her heart nearly stops.

"Mom?", she breaths out. There standing next to Dumbledore is a ghost she revisits nearly every night. But no... upon second glance this woman is older than her mother should be. Her hair a much darker shade of brown than her mother's. Her eyes are different too. Not as warm, and filled with some apprehension.

"This is Miss Emmaline Vance, she is your aunt", Dumbledore stated softly, and then excused himself to afford the aunt and niece some privacy.

It takes more than a moment for Emma to comprehend what has been said. She has an aunt? Where has she been all her life? There's a flash of anger in her eyes but before she can say a word-

"I didn't know", Emmaline stated plainly, without any infliction, as though she were deliberately keeping her voice steady.

And just like that Emma understood what must have happened. She still asked to be sure.

"They went into hiding without telling you didn't they?", She said in a barely audible whisper.

Emmaline gave a brisk nod, eyes showing some surprise at such quick comprehension of her cryptic words.

"You didn't know they died?", Emma asked, remembering there had been only muggle police at the scene, no Aurors. It was entirely possible...

"I suspected...specially after You-Know-Who fell and they didn't come out of hiding like the others...", Emmaline paused as if to gather herself,"I didn't think ... I assumed you would have-"

"You assumed I died with them?",Emma questioned feeling slightly guilty for pushing for answers from the clearly distraught woman.

"I'm s-sorry... I should have searched harder... I should have kept looking until I found you... I shouldn't have given up...I-I", here she broke down into sobs, unable to continue.

But Emma was still fixated on ..."You looked for me?"

Emmaline looked up surprise and indignation sparking in her eyes, "Of course I looked for you!"

Emma walked up to the distraught woman, and rested a hand on her arms, smiling, "Then there's nothing to forgive".

There are still questions to be answered, but for now the two finally bask in the solace of finding family again.

* * *

Emma spends Christmas with her namesake. There is some awkwardness hanging in the air. But it dissipates like mist with time.

Emmaline has a small home in London, a two bedroom apartment, just large enough to be comfortable for two. They spend the holidays talking about their lives (one particular incident of tragedy and horror is skipped over, Emmaline doesn't ask, and Emma doesn't tell).

Emma's hazy memories had already offered up the knowledge of Emmaline's participation in the Order of the Phoenix. But beyond that, she knew nothing about her newfound aunt.

She discovered over Christmas that Emmaline was a National Dueling Champion. She worked as a stock broker in the muggle world for Gringotts. She loved to cook, and disliked the cold. She appeared quite stern, but was really just quiet and contemplative, not unlike herself. Her favorite place to be was by the seaside.

"We'll go some time ... over summer, there'll be plenty of time then", Emmaline says quietly, almost questioningly, as though she were saying -

Would you stay with me?

And Emma hold back tears as she nods in affirmation.

* * *

Emma's first three years at Hogwarts passed rather unremarkably.

She was a good student, though she could stand to pay greater attention to her Charms work.

She was considered an absolute prodigy in Defense (to be honest, it was just all the hard work she put into it, prodigy was a misleading title, no matter what anyone said), even with the spotty teaching they had with a different Professor every year.

The additional tutoring from Emmaline at home certainly didn't hurt. There were seventh years in Hogwarts that would hesitate to cross wands with her.

Her personal arsenal of spells was second to none. Her entire Hogwarts career was focused on learning as many spells as she could.

Her social life was pretty much limited to her three friends and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, which she had joined in her third year as a chaser (mostly due to Roger's nagging, the boy was positively obsessed with the sport). Though she was friendly with any one that spoke to her, she was never one to initiate conversations. At least not with anyone other than Joyce, Simon or Roger.

She frankly considered it a minor miracle that they well still so close. All her former experience claimed it was natural for friends to drift apart after some time, specially when as young as they were. But if anything, they grew closer with the years.

And it was like this that her fourth year arrived, and with it a whole bunch of problems she could have happily lived without.

Harry Potter had finally come to Hogwarts.

* * *

Despite her conscience begging her to help the poor, nearly emaciated looking boy, she kept to her word. She would not interfere.

That resolve did not keep her from sneaking worried glances at him and his friends all through the year. She was honestly surprised no one had noticed or called her out on it yet.

Harry Potter is exactly what she expected him to be.

That's a lie.

She had no idea what to expect really. But this small black haired green eyed boy feels familiar. So she imagines he is what she must have expected him to be. The boy who will bring an end to the creature that killed her parents.

She remembers the red eyes and the cruel laughter, and averts her shamed gaze from the eleven year old boy before her.

In order to keep her mind from wandering to the direction of child soldiers and the weight of her own responsibilities, she focused on her school work. And on intensifying her personal defense training (The abandoned classroom she had been using now consisted of little more than rubbles and ruin- Gratuitous use of the Bombarda spell was excellent relief for her frustrations).

That, along with Quidditch practice kept her mind occupied for the most part.

The most painful part of that year was sitting through Quirlmort's classes and not attempting to murder him. She just kept her head down and focused on what she was meant to be learning.

* * *

The year passes normally, so much so that she sometimes forgets whats going on in the castle. Until someone carelessly brings up the forbidden corridor on the third floor, or the troll in the castle on Halloween, or the detention Potter and his friends got themselves into.

At the end of the year, Potter lies in the hospital bed having confronted his nemesis for the first(but not nearly the last) time. She sneaks into the medical wing and leaves him a few chocolate frogs to ease her guilt.

It does not work.

* * *

That summer Emma and Emmaline took a vacation to the sea side, as was now their tradition. Emmaline had managed a week long vacation from her job for the trip.

As they rested on the warm sand by the waves, surrounded only by the distant screeching of seagulls, Emma finally spoke of what she had witnessed of her parents deaths. She is so tired of holding on to the nightmares. Keeping them for herself like corrupted treasures, their last moments in this life.

She speaks of the robed men, the man with red eyes, the spells... the screams. She recalls every word spoken with perfect clarity. The pool of blood on her mothers pristine carpets. The mutilated bodies left behind when they were done.

The police officers on the scene had tried their best to make sure she couldn't see... but it didn't matter. She had spent hours alone in the company of their vacant eyes, before the police even arrived.

Emmaline listened in silence, tears dripping from the corner of eyes. She didn't want to hear this Emma knew. No one would want to hear this. But Emma was being selfish now... she needed to let it out before it consumed her. And Emmaline understood.

When her recollections came to end, Emmaline began to speak.

She spoke of how her father had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and her mother in Gryffindor. She spoke of how they met, of their first date, of their first fight, of their foolish mistakes and of their brightest achievements.

She spoke of how her father bought her mother a different flower every day, until he figured out which ones she loved best (Orchids). She spoke of how her mother came to the stands and cheered her father in every match he played as a beater (even though she hated Quidditch).

She spoke until her voice was sore, and till Emma's heart was full and sated.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you for reading. This story had no Beta, so if you spot any errors I may have missed (grammatical or otherwise) please let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **Conflicted Soul**

While shopping for school supplies before her fifth year, Emma picks up a pretty compact mirror. Just big enough to help her look around the corners of the hallways. Neither the shopkeeper nor Emmaline think twice about it. She is a pretty young girl after all... its all perfectly normal.

Roger and herself have been made prefects. She knows how difficult a responsibility that will be this year, of all years.

Ginny Weasley is sorted into Gryffindor like all her brothers before her. Emma can't help but stare at the little girl sometimes, looking for any visible signs of what is to come. Common signs of possession that she studied up on last year. She sees nothing. Ginny Weasley is perfectly ordinary first year.

It is Terrifying.

When the petrifications start, Emma seriously considers warning her friends. By now it's been a very long time since she read the books... she can't recall the names of the people that were petrified, nor the order in which it happened. She can't bear to see her friends like that... but this year of all years she must be most careful. One misstep and someone could be dead. That is the Basilisk's purpose after all- to kill. So she lets things go as they will-at least she can be certain that no one will die (she hopes). It's OWLS year, and there's little enough time for her to worry about anything else.

She avoids the dueling club fiasco altogether (the less said about her opinion on Lockhart the better), having sequester herself into a corner to work on her newest defense project- the Patronus Charm. She going to be needing it soon enough, and its a hard spell to master.

When rumors start to spread of Potters parsletongue ability, she quietly reminds the Ravenclaws around her that there may have been three Dark Lords that had this ability, but there were also at least seven historically well known healers that could do the same. Besides, his mother was a muggleborn, as was that Granger girl he hung around with... honestly wasn't Ravenclaw supposed to house the clever and wise? Some of them listen to her, but some are still skeptical. But she is glad that she said something. Its the least she could do...literally.

Going home for Christmas is a relief. Emma had spent more time than she should have listening for hissing through the walls... not that she ever heard any. It was getting harder to find a good night's rest though.

Her nightmares were back with a vengeance. Now starring monstrously huge snakes along with the men in black robes and bone white masks. Her friends knew something was wrong, they assumed she was bothered by the Heir of Slytherin thing. They weren't exactly wrong.

Joyce and Simon spent as much time with her as they could trying to cheer her up with their own lightheartedness. Roger kept pointing out all the reasons why she was supposedly safe (all four of her grandparents had magic, so by all rights she should be considered a pureblood, and therefore had nothing to worry about). She could only reply to his concerned ramblings with a sad smile and a fair amount of pity at the fact that he thought anyone here was safe.

Emma started blankly from the gleaming brown piano to Emmaline and back again. "Merry Christmas!", was the only explanation she received. Emmaline had heard her play at the local church over the summers, and knew how much joy it brought her niece.

Emma silently hugged her aunt, trying to convey the depth of her gratitude with the strength of her embrace. She wasn't any good with words, and this was all she could do to say, I love you.

Half-way through the year, Emma was called to Professor Flitwick's office to discuss career options. Up until then Emma hadn't really thought much about what she wanted to do with this life. Everyone expected her to take up a job around Defense, given how much time she spent on it (if they knew what she knew, they'd be right there with her, preparing for the inevitable battle). But she really didn't like fighting much (had had more than her fair share of it already in her war torn second life). She spent time on defense because of the necessity of it (and because nightmares of her parents screams still haunted her sometimes... but no one needed to know that)

She had a soul that despised confrontation, and she really just wanted to be useful... helpful in some way(she was so frustrated by her inability to help, as she thought back to the little children lying petrified in the hospital wing). And then that evening looking through the pamphlets that Flitwick gave her... she found it.

Healer. Yes, that was what she was looking for.

A couple of weeks before her OWLs begin, Emma finally manages to make something more than a misty shield from her patronus. She has a new respect for Potter. The kid managed to learn this while he was still thirteen!

When the examiners for her Defense OWLs ask her to demonstrate a spell of her choice for extra credit, she closes her eyes and thinks of the summer weeks spent on the beach. Thinks of her Aunt's smile that is an echo of her mother's. Thinks of the warm sand, the cool waves kissing her toes before they shyly recede and the sea breeze that teases her hair.

"Expecto Patronum", she whispers.

A brightly shining seagull, made of all the light she has to offer, takes off from her wand. Flying joyfully around the room before it dissipates.

The year ends as expected. Harry Potter has saved the day... again. Ginny Weasley is sent home early to recover from her ordeal. The mandrake restorative drought is brewed and the petrified students are recovered.

There are about ten different versions of what happened floating around the castle. Not a one of them as absurd as the truth, she knows.

Emma receives her OWL results over the summer, she's done about as well as she expected.

Charms-E

Defense Against the Dark Arts-O

Transfiguration-O

Potions-O

Herbology-E

History-A

Astrology-A

Ancient Runes-O

Care of Magical Creatures-O

She breaths a sigh of relief, she has managed all the grades she needs to continue on to NEWTs courses required for a Healer. She wonders if Madam Pomffrey allows students to help out at the Hospital wing. She shrugs. No harm in asking.

Emma is tired of being useless. She glances to her side at the mornings Daily Prophet. The visage of Sirius Black stares back, hair disheveled, eyes dark the very picture of deranged madness.

When the train stops before reaching Hogsmede, Emma is ready with her wand in her hand. The moment she starts to feel the chill of the dementors presence she shoots off her patronus. She has no interest in waiting around to see which of her very many dark and depressing memories the vile creatures are capable of drawing out.

The bright little seagull perches quietly by the door of their compartment, guarding Emma and her friends from the worst of it.

Emma can not say this enough, Professor Lupin is the best thing that happened to Hogwarts. He takes Defense seriously, having fought in the last war. His classes are interesting and focused on practical work. On casting shields and jinxes, and even a few curses (never mind that Emma knows most of these already, these kids learning with her will need them as much as she will).

She had half expected her class to have to confronted a boggart sometime that year, but that never happened. That class had been conducted only for the third and fourth years (older students tended to have fears that were more complicated and harder to confront, fears that were too private to share with a class full of peers).

She wonders briefly how the boggart could possibly depict loss(Emmaline's face flashes in her mind, cold and blank, eyes staring ahead at nothing, dead) and she shudders and moves on from the thought.

Emma looked at the young thirteen year old asking for help and thought to her self, Well it was inevitable wasn't it. Avoiding him forever would have been too good to be true. Still she made one final token effort, "Why don't you ask Professor Lupin?"

"I did", replies the boy-who-lived rather nervously.

"He's not well enough to teach me right now, he said he would after Christmas but... I've heard you're the only student in Hogwarts who can cast a Patronus", And here he gave her a mildly awed look (no, please no, she didn't deserve that respect, not from him)"... please, I need to learn that spell"

And she couldn't say no. Not when she'd been denying him help for so long already (the fact that he knew nothing about her denial was irrelevant).

She let out a deep sigh.

"Meet me by the charm's classroom at six", Is all she says. As she turns to walk away, she catches a glimpse of his blinding smile from the edge of her eyes. And the corner of her own lips turn up slightly.

This won't really hurt anything, she thinks to herself. He's going to learn that spell this year anyway. This won't change anything...right?

"The Patronus Charm has three corner stones, clarity, magical power and emotion", She explained to the teen gazing enrapturedly at her Patronus Seagull.

"The first means that the incantation has to be spoken out clearly...its one of the few spells that can't be cast silently" She continued.

"The second, you can't really do anything about... either you have the power to cast it or you don't", at this Harry gave her a slightly worried look. She chuckled. "Trust me Potter, you have more than enough power to cast it".

"How would you know?", He said, still looking skeptical.

She sighed,"Okay, whats your best spell?".

He thought about it for a minute and then shrugged, "I'm pretty okay with the disarming jinx I guess".

She resisted the urge to scoff, 'pretty okay' indeed.

She conjured a glass cube, and then cast a rather obscure (but so very useful) spell on it and laid it on the ground as Harry looked on curiously.

"Alright, now here's what I want you do Harry. Cast an Expelliarmus at that that cube with all you've got. If it glows yellow, your power is below average, if its green, its normal for your age, red means high for your age and white means high for any age". She doesn't give him a minute to deliberate. "Ready? Now".

"Expelliarmus", Harry very nearly shouts, the red beam leaves his wand and hits the cube.

It glows white.

"There you see", she smiles as if she had expected this all along (and to be honest she kind of had) "No problem with power".

He smiles back at her slightly surprised at the result and a touch grateful. "So, what now?", he asks.

"Now comes the hardest part... the emotion. The Patronus is powered by your memories. Not just any memories, they have to be the best memories you have, the happiest you've ever been", She paused and then continued,"Or so the books will tell you"

He looked at her questioningly. She answered his unspoken question, "Personally, I've found that it works better when you focus on the memories of love rather than happiness, a lot of Dark wizards can't cast this spell you know...and this is probably why, they try to cast it with their happiest memories, and all their happiest memories are rather devoid of love" She explains solemnly, "It's really quite sad actually".

He looks at her, vaguely uncomfortable with direction this conversation has turned to, but contemplative all the same.

"Okay, so lets do this...close your eyes Harry", he follows her direction, "Now think of all the people that love you, be they dead or alive", his breath hitches slightly at that last part.

"Now think the way their love makes you feel, and say the incantation".

Harry is a study in concentration, his brows furrowed and his shoulders stiff with his focus as he calls out the words,"Expecto Patronum".

A light silvery mist escapes his wand, coalescing into a vaguely shield like form, about the size of a dinner plate.

And Emma is blown away, she didn't expect him to get anything on his first try!

Harry doesn't seem to agree, as he looks on disappointedly at his little shield. He has no idea what he's just done. And Emma isn't sure how to explain to him the enormity of his achievement. She settles for throwing in her own example for him to compare his progress to.

"You know it took me weeks to get a shield that size", she says to him.

Harry looks taken aback at the admission. "Really?", he asks rather skeptically.

"Really... then again, I didn't have anyone to teach me, I was trying to figure it out for myself. Still, this is really impressive Potter".

He blushes a deep red, and looks down, unused to such genuine compliments.

She smiles down gently at the adorably embarrassed teen. He is rather cute, she thinks. Her mind wandering back to all the times she's worried over him from a distance, and the pride she feels for him now and wonders if this is what it feels like to have a little broth-

She stops her thoughts right there. No, she can't do this, can't afford to get in any deeper than she already is.

She forces the smile back on her face and says, "Well I guess you don't really need me anymore. Just keep practicing alright?"

He opens his mouth to say something, but she's fled before he can get a word out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  
 **A Champion's Soul**

She continues to get an ominous feeling in her belly every time Harry passes her in the corridors and smiles at her. She smiles back of course. It wouldn't do to make him think something was wrong. She tutored him in a spell, and he considers them acquaintances now, so of course he would smile at her. Its perfectly normal. She hasn't upended this story.

 **She hasn't.**

The ominous feeling still won't go away.

* * *

She belated realizes what a massive idiot she is. If avoiding Harry Potter was her goal, then volunteering at the Hospital wing probably wasn't her brightest idea.

She watches as the Gryffindor Quidditch team slowly trickles out of the Hospital wing leaving Harry alone, staring morosely at the remains of his broom.

She approaches hesitantly with his potions. Damn Madam Pomffrey for leaving her to deal with this.

"Potter", She calls, and holds out his pain relief potion (Dumbledore may have slowed his fall, but that didn't make the hundred foot drop less painful by much). He looks terribly surprised to see her here, and accepts the potion on reflex.

After a moment though he looks down morosely and says, "I'm sorry".

Emma is stumped, she can't think of anything he may have done to apologize for, and she tells him as much.

"I tried-", he starts to explain, clearly struggling with his words,"I tried to cast the Patronus, but there were so many of them, and they came out of nowhere..."

"Pott- Harry, It wasn't-", She's not much good with words either, but she needs him to understand this. To understand that this was not a failing on his part, "Its like you said Harry, they came out of nowhere. You can't be expected to be prepared for a scenario like that, you're still thirteen for Merlin's sake! It shouldn't be your job to defend yourself while in the middle of a quidditch match surrounded by your peers and teachers".

Harry looks at her as though he can't quite understand whats just been said to him. As though the very idea of not being responsible for his own safety is an entirely novel concept.

She valiantly resists the urge to scream, and sternly commands him to drink his potion and get some rest.

She'll watch over him for the night.

* * *

The next time Harry is confronted by Dementors, its on the quidditch pitch again. Except this time, she is there on the pitch as a part of the team he's up against.

They both shoot off their patronus at the incoming threat almost simultaneously. The match is over a second later as Harry catches the snitch.

The 'Dementors' turn out to be a couple of Slytherin miscreants trying to sabotage Gryffindor. Emma breaths a sigh of relief that there was no real danger (this time). And looks towards the celebrating Gryffindor team. To her surprise, Harry is beaming straight at her.

She breaths out an exasperated huff of amusement and gives him a reluctant nod of acknowledgement. She can't quite hide the pride she feels for him.

If possible his smile gets even brighter.

* * *

Emma doesn't even realize when the whole Sirius Black fiasco happened. Its only the day after its all over that she hears of his capture and subsequent escape.

Other hot topics floating around the Great Hall that morning are, "You know that Granger girl? The one that hangs around with Potter, I hear she punched Malfoy in the face!" and "Professor Lupin is a WHAT!", and her personal favorite "Professor Trelawney swore she saw a Grimm on the grounds last night, and now she won't get out from under her bed"

* * *

The next summer, the last summer before her graduation from Hogwarts is a peaceful one. Until she reads of the incident at the quidditch world cup in the daily prophet and a light goes off at the back of her head. Oh, right, this happened in the books didn't it? To be honest she hadn't remembered. She remembers what comes now though.

The Triwizard Tournament.

Dumbledore's announcement at the start of the year is met with a wild amount of enthusiasm and anticipation. Emma personally just feels numb. It won't be long now, the thought repeats itself over and over in her head like a broken tape.

The other schools' representatives arrive at Hogwarts with much fanfare. The Goblet of Fire is revealed. All relevant announcements and warnings are given out, and Emma pays attention to none of it.

It won't be long now.

It won't be long now.

God I'm not prepared for this. How is anyone supposed to be prepared for this!

Halloween afternoon, Simon puts all four of their names in the Goblet of Fire. Emma is upset, but not enough to make a fuss about it. She shoots Simon her signature look of disapproval, and then carries on with her day. It doesn't really matter of course. Its Cedric Diggory whose name will be picked after all, she has nothing to worry about. At least not for tonight.

Its not Cedric Diggory's name that Dumbledore so cheerfully calls out as the Hogwarts champion.

Its "Emma McClain".

She rises from her seat as her house and most of the Hogwarts students cheer her on. Not letting even a hint of her panic and turmoil show on her face. She calmly turns to Simon who has a massive smug smile on his face, as if to say, See? aren't you glad I did this?

She pulls her hands back and punches him hard right in the face. Then when she is satisfied with his pained howling, she turns and walks up to the dais and then into the room where Delacour and Krum are already waiting. The cheers have dimmed slightly in confused response to her actions and her apparent displeasure at being chosen.

All of that however, is then promptly forgotten in the aftermath of Harry Potter's name flying out of the Goblet.

* * *

She stands by stoically as the the other competitors and Headmasters argue about how inadmissible Harry's inclusion is, not giving the young boy even a minute to defend himself. As Karkaroff yet again brings up how Horwarts has gained an unfair advantage, Emma has finally had enough.

"Might I propose a solution?" she chimes in, to get their attention.

"Instead of considering our scores individually, I propose Hogwarts gets assigned the average of our combined scores. This way if we both do well, its all the same, but if one of us does poorly, Hogwarts falls behind, there'd be no added advantage to us at all"

At first they look askance at her, as if they can't believe she would propose something like this. But Karkaroff and Maxime are quick to agree, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dumbledore agrees as well after a slight hesitation, as Barty Crouch announces it would be well within the rules.

Harry waits for her as the others leave, and finally asks "Why would you do that! I'm only a fourth year, what if I bring all your scores down! They'll hate me even worse than they do now"

Well she honestly hadn't thought about that, she just wanted to shut them up already. But, "You won't Harry, you'll do just fine" She looks into his eyes as she says this, so he can see her faith in him.

He is not convinced.

* * *

She has an inescapable advantage over the other competitors. She already knows what the tasks will be. It doesn't do much to make her feel better.

All she can think of is Dragon fire and the creatures of the Black Lake and the maze and then... 'kill the spare'.

Maybe her being chosen isn't such a bad thing. There 's at least some good that can come from this, she thinks as she glances over at the Hufflepuff table where Cedric Diggory is laughing freely with his friends, unaware of the bullet he's dodged.

She still won't forgive Simon though.

* * *

A week before the second task, Harry comes up to warn her about the dragons. She pretends to be surprised, then makes Harry wait as she hastily scribbles down a long list of spells she can remember that would be useful against a dragon. Including a special variant of the flame freezing charm, used to render dragon fire more or less useless. Its an obscure spell that not many outside the dragon handling community would even know about.

She hands the completed list of over twenty spells (what can she say? she knows a lot of spells) to a bewildered Harry.

"These will be useful", Is all she says as she walks away to join her friends by the Black Lake.

* * *

The first time Harry heard of Emma McClain, he was in his second year. It was right in the middle of the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' debacle. Some random third years had walked up to him and told him they didn't think he was responsible. Grateful for their support, but more than a touch confused, he had wondered where this came from.

Listening to their conversation later he picked up on the 'Emma was right' and 'There's no way he could be'. It didn't take him long to put the clues together. Emma McClain, the fifth year Ravenclaw prefect. She had stood up for him to her house mates, and even convinced some of them of his innocence.

He didn't understand why though. He had never so much as spoken to her. The only reason he even recognized her was because she was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team as a chaser.

The next time he heard her name was in third year. It was once again as a group of Ravenclaws discussed her. He wasn't necessarily eavesdropping... he just picked up on her name and got curious about the conversation, thats all. Okay, so he was eavesdropping, what do you care?

They were bragging about how the Dementors never went near their compartment thanks to Emma (And now Harry was truly hooked to this conversation). They spoke almost reverently of how she was probably the only student in Hogwarts that could cast the Patronus. Hell, even some of the Professors on the staff couldn't do it! And wasn't she simply amazing.

Harry spent a lot of time thinking, before he approached Emma McClain for help. In fact if it hadn't been for the time back in second year when she stood up for him, he might not have had the courage to go up to her at all (it was debatable how viciously Emma would bang her head on a wall if she knew this). He desperately needed to learn how to fend off a Dementor however. And he was also really really curious about the girl that stood up for him for no reason other than common decency- the only one to have ever done so (bang, bang, bang).

She seemed reluctant to tutor him, but much to Harry's relief, she agreed.

Then in the course of a single lesson, she managed not only to teach him how to cast a patronus, but also gave him greater confidence in his own abilities. Her faith in his power was so obvious, and her compliments so transparent that they left no room for self doubt.

Emma McClain was, as far as Harry was concerned, the most generous, beautiful, powerful and intelligent girl in Hogwarts (he might be slightly biased). This coming from someone who was friends with Hermione Granger. Speaking of Hermione, he wondered if she was on to something when she said he clearly had a crush on the older girl. In any case, he had put her on a bit of a pedestal, and she was not coming down.

When Emma's name was called out from the Goblet of Fire, Harry was on his feet clapping louder than any of the others. Happily telling anyone within hearing range, _I told you so_. As far as Harry was concerned, no one else could have possibly been chosen.

Then his own name came out of the Goblet, and all thoughts came to a stumbling halt.

His brain didn't start functioning again until Emma brought up the idea of evening out their scores (Why would she DO that?). Up until now he had been confused and slightly scared of what was happening. Now he was furious. He didn't want to hurt her chances with his own inability. He already felt so indebted to her, this would only make it worse.

But she didn't seem even remotely bothered by the thought that he might fail her. Like that wasn't even a possibility.

Did she not want to win? That's the only conclusion Harry could arrive at. And given what he knew about her, it actually seemed likely. She was not the sort to seek glory and fame. She seemed far too practical and grounded for that sort of thinking.

It was only later that he realized that not once had Emma even hinted at the possibility that he'd entered his own name into the Goblet. She believed him without even being asked to.

He still hadn't thanked her for that, and now there was this.

He stares at the list of spells in his hand and wonders how completely out of his league he must be if she wasn't even phased by the news of the dragons they'd be facing. If fact, going by this list, she probably wouldn't have had any trouble even if he hadn't said a word to her.

He gulps and wonders if Fleur and Krum are like that too. Somehow he doubts it.

He sighs and trudges over to the library. He's got a list of spells to study, and only a week left to study them in. He doesn't want to bring down Emma's scores. More importantly, he doesn't want to disappoint her.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** To everyone that followed/favored this story- **Thank You so much!**

To my reviewers - **Kyouki no kitsune, notsofrilly, wolfstars, Rebelious One, TitanXyz, shadowjumper7, trynmailme, Shadowing, Mary D. Black2000, bbb671, Winterlover6, Yuki Suou, Not-Gonna-Update, xxxLeanniexxx, AnimeFreak71777, akagami hime chan, Grin like the Cheshire Cat, Xalmtris, mar888 ,yachiru-chan92 , Regin, the Avid Reader, Lizzy B, Ari, anon, mmmgirl13, chibiRomy, Hataqui Run Sharpe, odrianna, Innieminnie, Guest97, Aussieshipwhore, Rainbow shark, Espied7, Jessicmathews65, invasionofprivacy, Analon, 6jayc6, aliiceroseee, HoneyGrl, Guest, Lightsbane1905, Lelleg, MysticalLights, lunamoon531, The Plague Doctor, Maya, wolfstarschibianimefan26, xenocanaan, pendora59, RG, Cosette.**

 **Melissa Fairy** : I'm sorry you were disappointed, since this is quite different from AEH, but I'm glad you like this story too :)

To **DarkDust27, CasJeanne, HRHPrincessTricia, Lurking Phoenix, AnimemetSoul** : As much as the idea of Harry/Emma intrigues me, this was definitely planned as a BillxOC story, and for good reason as you'll hopefully see in the coming chapters.

Thank you all for the reviews! I love reading them and every new review brings a smile to my face.

-Much love  
BlueAsphodel

Warning for this chapter: Mild profanity (like you wouldn't even notice it if I hadn't put up this warning)

* * *

 **Chapter 5**  
 **Lonely Soul**

Emma spends the week before the first task contemplating how thoroughly her life has been fucked over by this tournament. Originally she had intended to spend her last year at Hogwarts mostly in the restricted section of the library, looking up all she could on soul magics.

It's not that she couldn't have done this before. But researching magiks of the soul and reincarnation when she was any younger would have invited undue scrutiny from the staff. Seventh year students however (especially those in Ravenclaw) were more or less permitted free reign in the restricted section.

Then there was the new DADA professor. Mad-eye Moody. She felt like she was going to work herself to the grave trying to keep the younger students from being near him alone. For now that was the best she could do.

And there were also her NEWTs to consider. She wasn't sure how she could be excused from her examinations like the other champions, given that she needed her NEWTs to pursue her Healing career.

All this wasn't even considering what she was meant to do with the plot. She supposed she could still try for minimal involvement.

Just do all the tasks as she was supposed to and then let Harry take the cup at the end of the maze. He would still end up in the graveyard, Voldemort would still return using Harry's blood, which meant Harry would still survive his confrontation with Voldemort's killing curse in the forbidden forest, while the horcrux in his scar died.

Everything happened for a good reason.

Except if that was true, then why was she even in this world to begin with?

For better or for worse, she was here. And the future would change whether she wanted it to or not. It had already changed, without her lifting even a finger to make it so.

Well then fuck it all, she thinks as she hands Harry the list of spells to use against the dragon in the first task. She'll stop leaving things to chance now and take matters into her own hands. She is done being the passive observer.

For better or for worse indeed.

* * *

The first task is... easier than she expected.

The Swedish Short Snout she had to face looked intimidating, but once her spell rendered its flames useless, it really wasn't that much of a threat anymore. She casts another spell, an illusion to make it look like there were ten of her on the field. While the beast is distracted by pouncing on the illusions she disillusions herself, sneaks past it and gets the golden egg.

In all it takes her no more than two minutes to complete the task.

The hardest part by far is watching with baited breath as Harry faces down the massive Hungarian Horn Tail, that is twice as aggressive as any other dragon that's been brought out today.

But she needn't have worried. Without her help, Harry would have completed this task with a little difficulty, out flying a dragon. With her help however, this task just became ten times easier.

He casts a spell thats creates a mist. One that sooths the dragon and makes it drowsy. He casts a quick flame freezing charm on himself, and then (giving her a massive heart attack in the process) he charges straight at the dragons nest. The dragon, barely coherent, but still aware of the danger to her eggs, breaths out her flames at Harry. The crowd rises to it's feet and there at gasps and shouts of horror as Harry is enshrouded in dragon flame. Emms's heart is in her throat, she's never tested that spell, it should work, she knows, but what if-

Before she gets much time to second guess herself, Harry emerges unscathed from the flames, holding up his golden egg triumphantly.

* * *

The Yule Ball is a massively trying affair. Emma gets asked by more people than she can remember. She has to turn them all down, which is uncomfortable and awkward all around. Joyce finally tired of Emma's 'pickyness'(It's not really- she looks at them and thinks they're so young! She feels so much older- it would be cradle-robing or something wouldn't it?), sets her up with her cousin from Drumstrang. And Emma agrees, because it turns out, she can't go to the ball alone.

The evening itself isn't so bad. She gets to dress up for the first time in... well she can't remember how long its been now. But she does remember some things, old habits from older lives that she thought were well and truly buried in the abyss of her memory.

Joyce and the other Ravenclaw girls are surprised at how easily Emma coifs her hair into a beautiful and elegant up-do, how cleanly she applies her makeup. She's never been one for such frivolities (They couldn't know that once upon a life time such things had been the norm for her).

When she walks out in her gold sheath dress looking like a picture out of an old Hollywood movie, the watchers are mildly shocked. Emma had always been pretty of course, in an approachable, girl-next-door kind of way. Sure there were moments when the light caught her eyes just right and they would look like molten gold. Or evenings by the fireplace where the low flames shone in her hair for an instant and turned them to flames too. But then she'd turn and say something in that blunt manner of hers and you'd dismiss it as a trick of the light. An illusion.

There was no mistaking this for an illusion. Emma wasn't pretty tonight. She was intimidatingly beautiful.

* * *

Harry spends the evening petulantly glaring at Emma's date and bitching with Ron about Drumstrang boys. They actually have fun.

Emma spends the evening dancing. Barely pausing for a rest. She dances with so many different partners she looses count. She can't remember their faces, let alone their names. She remembers taking a turn with Dumbledore, simultaneously dancing with both the Weasley twins, spinning around a little first year that appeared to have sneaked in to the party.

She remembers how much she loved to dance. Wonders why she'd gone so long without this. Wonders and laughs right up until Simon (who has after weeks of groveling finally been forgiven) spins her around the dance floor and says to her, "Its like you're a completely different person today". And she remembers that she is a different person today. Today, she is only half of Emma McClain, the other half is a ghost long dead.

She is more than one iteration of herself, but its still not her. And there in a crowd filled with peers and teachers and friends, she suddenly feels terribly alone.

She takes her leave from the ball then. It doesn't take much to convince them she's tired. It's the truth after all. Body, mind and soul, she is tired.

* * *

The second task is going to be no more difficult than the first. In truth, this is probably because she already knows whats coming. She doubts she could do half as well without her prior knowledge.

She's made sure Harry knows at least five different ways to breath under water. She could have given him more, but self-transfiguration is a bit beyond the scope of a fourth year. No matter how powerful he may be.

Just as the task is about to begin she casts a quick eye around the audience to determine which of her friends is missing. But there they are, sitting in the front row, Joyce, Simon and Roger, all accounted for... but then who?...wait...they didn't!

Emma barely waits for the starting whistle as she darts furiously into the water, transfiguring her legs into a fin and gills by her ears. She looks like a muggle fairytale version of mermaids.

It doesn't take her long to find the mer-village, she'd known exactly which direction to go in before she even dived in. And that fish tail is a surprisingly powerful propellant.

There in the middle of the little underwater town, she finds four figures floating, anchored to the sandy floor of the lake by ropes tied to their feet. The first is a little blond girl, Fleur's sister who's name she can't remember. The second is Hermione, and next to her Ron (she briefly wonders if this task isn't designed to be specially unfair to Harry) and finally the last figure, significantly older than the other young hostages is Emmaline (and then she wonders if the task isn't unfair to her as well, after all is would be much easier to drag along the petite half veela than it would be to carry a full grown adult like Emmaline).

At first she planed to simply take Emmaline and get out of there. Watching her most important person float there like a ghost is beyond eerie.

Its not like any of the hostages were actually in any danger right? Except she noticed the way some of the mermen glared at the little half veela.

She remembered reading somewhere that there was an ongoing feud between some veela and mermaid clans, but that couldn't affect them here could it? She looked once again at the mermen guarding the hostages and realized something. They weren't guarding the hostages for the champions, the were guarding them from some of the other mermen.

They were angled protectively towards a growing group of discontent looking mermen. There was definitely trouble brewing here. The guards would probably be able to protect the little girl from the dissenters... but was Emma willing to risk it on the off chance that they failed?

So she waits there for Harry, and it isn't long before he shows.

He dithers when he sees her there, looks to the hostages and then to her, and to the hostages again. Knowing perfectly well what his self sacrificing nature will compel him to do, she gives him a stern glare, points to Ron and then back to the stands.

Harry's face takes on a familiar (exasperatingly familiar) stubborn countenance as he shakes his head and points to the floor, as if to say he's staying here if she is.

Normally she wouldn't care, its not like it's all that important for him to win this task, but the thing is, despite all her advised methods, Harry has chosen to take gillyweed. She doesn't know how much he's taken or how much time he has. If he runs out he could be in serious danger. And on top of all that, she seriously doubts he has noticed the brewing trouble with the mermen.

So she dials up her glare to the Scary-Mom-2.0 and shoots a stinging hex at his arm. This manages to somehow shock him into compliance. He reluctantly fiddles with the rope tying Ron down, until Emma severs it with one neat non-verbal spell, giving him no excuse to linger. He gives her one last petulant glance and starts to move towards the stands with Ron floating behind him.

Just as Harry starts to disappear towards the stands, Shark/Krum arrives and leaves with Hermione, barely even sparing Emma a side glance.

Emma waits a few more minutes, until she is certain Fleur will not arrive before the time limit is up, and then before the watching mermen can react, she quickly severs both ropes, grabs each of them in one arm and swims as fast as she can towards the surface. Inside the water, the mermen would have eventually caught up to her, but outside it- its her advantage.

Even then, its a long way to the surface, and she doubts she'll make it without being caught. She casts a hesitant backwards glance, only to discover the mermen fighting amongst themselves. The ones trying to chase after her were being deterred by the guards who probably realized why she did what she did.

Still, she noticed a couple of them slip past the guards and chase after her. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to do this, and then focused again on getting to the surface. Blindly casting spells at her back to slow her pursuers down.

By some miracle, she managed to reach the surface before they could catch up to her. Gasping as she took the frigid air into her lungs, as did both Emmaline and the little veela beside her.

They were not out of danger yet, but at least she wasn't alone. Having Emmaline(conscious) beside her was a big comfort. It was ironic then, that just as this thought occurred to her, she felt claws digging into her fin (she had yet to un-transfigure her legs) and dragging her back into the water.

She spends two seconds panicking, before she remembers the wand in her hand. She turns and shoots a quick stinging hex (the first thing that came to mind) at the eyes of the merman that grabbed her. He lets go of her and lets out a pained scream. She uses her now free tail to propel herself straight out of the water and onto... a boat?

She looked up to see a very worried Emmaline casting drying spells at her as the little veela girl(seriously what was her name?) looked on in fascination. The boat rocked, and Emma started... the damn things were still after them. She quickly un-transfigured her legs and moved to the back of the boat (Emmaline's conjuration, she presumed) and cast a quick spell to propel them fast, and away from the mer-village and towards the stands.

It didn't take long for them to get there, surprisingly, the hour long time limit wasn't over yet. Emma reached the stands just seconds before it would be. But she didn't care about that. She just wanted to get out of the water. This entire experience had ruined swimming for her.

Krum had managed to reach the stands just minutes after Harry, but Emma was awarded second place for 'moral fiber'. Fleur was simply too grateful to have her sister back to care about her own score and spent the whole time profusely thanking Emma for what she had done. Emmaline simply looked on in amusement as Emma struggled to get away from the overly expressive and overly grateful blond.

* * *

AN2: Sorry if that ending felt a little rushed-I was already pretty late with the update, I didn't want to dither with it much longer. Also- I don't have a beta, so if you spot any errors please let me know so I can correct them. Thanks for reading!


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